


Blink

by SparklingDragonTears



Series: What makes an Argent [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 150_prompts, Chris Argent is Bad at Feelings, Chris is breaking, Gen, Hunting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kate is a good sister, Post-Violence, Sibling Love, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, first kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: Prompt 61: "You will never be good enough."Time passes differently when you close your eyes.Chris goes out on his first solo hunt. Kate helps him survive the silence of the aftermath.
Relationships: Chris Argent & Kate Argent
Series: What makes an Argent [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1302899
Kudos: 4
Collections: Snake Noodle's 150 Prompts





	Blink

**Author's Note:**

> D/C: You know the drill. I don't own Teen Wolf.
> 
> Sorry it's been a while.   
> \--  
> I didn't give him an age. Maybe like 18 or 20. Use your imagination.  
> Kate is questionably good. At least sometimes.  
> \--  
> Enjoy.

Chris’ hands shook as he scrubbed them under the scalding water of the gas station bathroom sink. He’d slipped off his overcoat, laying it across the empty paper towel holder. Staring up at the yellowing mirror, he looked over his blood-stained clothes. 

Every time he blinked, he saw their faces.

_Stay detached._ He thought desperately, forcing himself to breathe in counts of ten. He scrubbed the hot water over his face, trying to distract himself. Ignoring the red under his fingernails, he shook the droplets from his hands, leaving the water running to drown out the echoing pleas.

He toed off his worn leather boots and began scrubbing them until they were uniformly wet, any spots looking like mud stains. Chris quickly and methodically opened his backpack, reaching through the inconspicuously piled snacks and books to reach a small, neatly folded package at the bottom. Tearing it out, he unwrapped a clean, plain grey t-shirt, underpants, socks and thin pair of tan slacks. He stripped in the filthy room, trying not to let anything touch the floor. Stripping off his still damp clothing, he folded it as best he could before shoving it all together in the small plastic wrap. He shoved it beneath the dollar-store decoy items and scrubbed his naked body best he could. 

He had to force himself to ignore how disgusting the room was, yanking his clothes on quickly, hoping his skin was dry enough not to look like more than sweat. He shoved his boots on and zipped his bag, making one last glance around for anything left. With one last look through the grime on the mirror, Chris slipped back into his long jacket, throwing the backpack over his shoulder. He knocked the water off with his elbow, schooled his features and stepped out into the night.

Chris walked causally down the road until he came upon a small side street where a muddy white pickup truck sat by itself under a burnt-out streetlight. He glanced around, tossed his bag in the open window, pulled out a set of three keys from his pocket and jumped in. He sat for a moment, breathing hard. He had to leave, had to stay on schedule. 

Had to relay the fucking information that had been worth the life of a little girl- _No. A monster. A killer. Someone who won’t ever hurt anyone again, thanks to you._ Chris fought back the sting in his eyes, starting the car and pulling out without headlights, driving away from the town, toward where the sun would rise in three hours, back toward home.

He would have thought he’d fallen asleep in bursts of micro-naps while driving, if it weren’t for the fact that his blood was pounding so harshly in his ears that he could barely hear himself think. 

And those thoughts only consisted of a little girl, who could have been _anyone’s_ little girl, begging for her life.

He was okay not hearing those thoughts.

His family driveway was under his tires before he realized the sun was piercing his burning eyes.

Katie watched him pile out of the truck from the porch, leaning against the rail like she’d been waiting for him. Her face betrayed none of her thoughts as she raked her eyes over his exhausted body. That could only mean one thing.

“Took you long enough,” Her voice was flat, a warning.

Chris looked over her shoulder to where Gerard was stepping out of the house. She stepped aside as their father came down the steps. Chris had been about to leave his bags in the passenger seat and deal with them after a few hours of sleep, but smoothly rounded the front of the truck like he’d been planning to get them from the side all along. Backpack over his shoulder, hunter duffle dangling from one hand, Chris kicked the door shut with a lazy shove of his foot.

He turned around to heavy hands clapping on his shoulders. It took everything in him not to flinch. He thought he might have managed just a heavy blink that may have been able to pass as surprise.

“Christopher,” Gerard pulled him to arm’s length to look over him. He nodded in approval at his change of clothing from what he’d left in. “Got ‘em all?” 

Chris wasn’t stupid enough to think the question was casual, no matter how little he’d slept in the last 48 hours.

“Yes, sir.” he answered stiffly. “Three adult males, two females,” He fought to maintain eye contact. “A teenager boy and a young girl.”

Gerard nodded, a proud grin stretching over his face that made Chris’ stomach lurch.

“That’s my boy,” Another sharp clap on his shoulder nearly knocked him from his feet, but he somehow managed to remain standing. “Go write down the encounter and get some rest. You can tell us all about it at dinner.”

Chris had to shut his eyes to keep from vomiting at the thought of discussing murder over the dinner table. He nodded and pulled from his father’s grip, heading toward the house. Gerard let him go, calling a congratulations that barely hit Chris’ ears.

He looked up as he passed his sister up the steps. Her bright eyes narrowed in his direction and he knew at once he hadn’t fooled her.

“ _Help your brother,_ ” rang up from somewhere behind him, although he was already heading into their basement to store his tools and immortalize the grizzly details on pages of their hunter’s log.

He heard her soft steps following him, but she said nothing. He crossed the cement floor to a desk with an old, thick journal resting in the center. He let his bags crash to the floor at his feet, uncaring about the way his weapons knocked together with a painful clatter.

Chris wrote, trying not to see the words spilling from his fingertips. He more than once had to stop and breathe, closing his eyes against the images, trying to bid them farewell once he got them out.

Katie moved quietly behind him, pulling weapons from his bag without being asked, resting them in their empty places amongst the racks. She’d finished by the time he closed the book, and he still hadn’t said a word to her.

He stared at the closed cover of the journal, pen resting over the flour de lis etched into the leather. The colors of the desk and wall and journal and the damn blood still staining his fingernails all blurred together and he had to slam his fists over his eyes to keep the tears inside.

He hadn’t realized he was shaking until Katie’s soft hands rested on one arm, pulling his hand away. Forcing him to look at her.

Chris could never understand her. He couldn’t understand how sometimes, she could be his big sister, begging Gerard not to hit him because he was ‘just Christopher’, and he ‘didn’t know yet’ about whatever their father was pissed about. Sometimes though, she was a cruel reflection of the man, with the same cold eyes and sharp tongue. She never hurt him physically, but he didn’t doubt for a second that she absolutely could. Times like today, when she stood silently, assessing him without Gerard present, he could never be sure which way she might tip from that line she straddled.

“Christopher,” Her voice was soft, pitying. She was Big Sister Katie today, then. “You will never be good enough.”

It stung him, not because of her choice of words, not because they were cruel in their nonchalance, but because they were a warning, a dangerous truth they both knew was brewing under the surface of Chris’ lies.

Gerard always found out about Chris’ lies sooner or later and he always wound up paying for them.

Chris let her pull him against her. He wrapped his arms around her back, trying not to cry into her shirt. He definitely failed at the attempt.

Katie’s hands flitted over his arms for what seemed only seconds, but must have been quite a while because he had somehow cried himself out. He was ready to fall over on his feet. Her shirt was soaked, his eyes scratchy from tears. Even his toes had begun to fall asleep from how he stood. She gently pushed him upright, shifting his weight off of her. She flipped her hair over her shoulder to hide the damp portion of her shirt. Her gentle thumbs ran over his cheeks, trying her best to clean away the evidence.

“This can’t happen again.” Her voice was firm and all he could do was nod. She tipped his chin up to look into her fierce eyes. “I mean it. If there’s a next time, he will beat it out of you, and I don’t think there will be anything left.”

Chris bent down to pick up his backpack and Katie stopped him with a hand on his arm. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Christopher,” He tugged free and she let him go. He stepped toward the stairs, trying to ignore the shame rising through him.

He squeezed his eyes against her voice, knowing she was only trying to help him.

“ _They aren’t people, Chris._ ”

He found himself buried in his covers, door firmly locked with all four locks. No one was going to bother him while he fought panic attacks in the safety of his bedroom. 

And as he let the darkness swallow him, his sister’s bright eyes melted with tears, shifting into the past, morphing into the face of the little girl, collapsing into her bleeding corpse.

Chris’ eyes shot open and as the moonlight sliced through his window. He gasped a breath, feeling a strange vertigo rock through him at the thought of having missed an entire day.

He sighed, staring at his ceiling, trying to calm his hammering heart. The terrible visions were already beginning to fade. As much as the thought made him sick, he realized that he’d already left yesterday behind him. A vague thought stabbed through him in a brutal, twisting knife. 

He felt guilty for it, but clung to the idea that no, he’d never be like them. He could never fit the mold his father had beaten around him. But, if he could pretend to be like Katie, to compartmentalize with cold indifference, if he could keep pushing aside todays into yesterdays, hell, if he could fake it long enough for Gerard to _maybe_ believe it, time might keep passing. 

He might just be able to survive this life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always. I love you all.
> 
> Till next time,  
> -J X


End file.
